Work Text:
May, 1979
At 8 years old, Will played his first full D&D campaign. All he knew was that Mike had been planning it for a really long time and that he refused to tell him, Lucas, or Dustin any details. All he provided was that they should all come up with a character.
Will already had his, he and Mike made their characters together while playing in his backyard; Will the Wise and Mike the Brave. Will was a powerful wizard and Mike was a brave knight. They’d play their parts, running around the backyard and letting their imaginations bounce off each other for hours until the sun set and Karen Wheeler had to practically drag them in for dinner.
Looking back, Will doesn’t really remember the intricacies of this first campaign. He remembers feeling magical, like the craziest most vivid story was being laid out in front of him. He knows this is unlikely, it was probably on par with the writing skills of an eight year old boy, but Will refuses to think of it like that. He just remembers staring at Mike as he performed his role of the dungeon master so emphatically Will would never dare to tear his eyes away.
He must’ve been staring at him like he created life itself.
In a way, it felt like he had.
Despite the presence of their other friends, Will had a special sort of attention on him throughout this game. Boughts of luck falling into his lap at Mike’s will, Mike’s earnest and careful explanations of the rules Will couldn’t quite understand, the sparkle in Mike’s eye when Will rolled particularly well. It made Will feel like in the life that Mike had created, he was at its center.
It was the best game he’d ever played.
That night, he’d gone home, his mom had made dinner and run him a bath, sending him to his room to sleep. Once the door shut behind him though, he had no intention of sleeping. He’d carefully clicked on his desk lamp, careful to shine it at the desk so as to not draw attention to his door. He pulled out his crayons and started drawing. The shouts from his parents drifted through the thin walls of his room, the harsh words of his father only spurring him to color harder. The harder he colored the easier it was to tune out the yelling.
The shouting stopped eventually, shortly after Will’s drawing was complete.
There was Will the Wise, healing the chest wound of Mike the Brave, touching his punctured armor with glowing and hands. Mike the brave smiled at him as if there were no injury at all. Colors spiraled all around them as Will the Wise’s magic worked. Will was proud of his work, feeling distinctly proud of it like he’d never felt about any of his art before.
He didn’t want it to get ruined, so he tucked it away in a bin in the back of his closet, saving it to look at only on special occasions to cheer himself up.
—
July, 1985
Will wasn’t used to Castle Byers being gone. He knew it was, of course, but he just wasn’t used to it.
After Starcourt, with El moving in with them, everything felt so hectic. He’d just needed a minute away. He was already halfway there before he realized where he’d been heading. He didn’t stop though, not until he reached the scene of the crime. He halted in his tracks at seeing the remains of his childhood fortress.
He kicked mindlessly at the scattered pieces of wood, still damp from the rain a few days ago. He shoved the pieces around with his foot, creating a clear spot that he could sit in. He played with the rotting wood chips that surrounded him, letting his mind wander.
He tried to think of anything else—school, D&D, taking up panting, El being a Byers now—but every time his eyes found their way back to the split Castle Byers sign he couldn’t stop the words that replayed in his head.
It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!
He had hoped over time the memory would fade and the punch to the gut would soften, much like the words he’d heard his own father spew at him had. But maybe not enough time had passed, or maybe it was hearing them from the person he never thought would do that to him; either way, the words echoed in his memory just as vividly as the moment they’d left his lips.
It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!
The rain slapping hard against Mike’s driveway, the echo of his voice bouncing off the garage walls, the look in his eyes as he said it. It all haunted him so violently he was worried he’d never be able to forget. It’s not just that, honestly he wishes that was the worst part.
The worst part was Mike’s face after he’d said it. He saw Will’s reaction, he knew how much that would hurt him and said it anyway and then had the audacity to make that face afterward—like he pitied Will? How gentle his voice got again, as if he hadn’t just ripped something out of Will that he wasn’t even aware of until it was already done.
That was the part that made him sick all over again.
He heard branches snap behind him, pulling his attention away from his thoughts. The crunch of footsteps in leaves, he whipped his head around, fear being his first instinct.
Until he sees a tree branch smack Mike in the forehead, making him hiss in pain—probably mostly in annoyance. Will laughed.
Mike followed the sound of his laughter, rubbing his forehead lamely and smiling when he spots Will.
“Hey!” He says, stepping across the bumps and dips in the forest ground. His legs were so long now, when did that happen?
“Hi.” Will smiled, his head turned over his shoulder to stare at his (apparently rather lanky) friend. “How’d you find me?”
“Jonathan said he saw you go this way. He guessed you’d be here.” Mike steps around to stand in front of him, kicking awkwardly at the broken board pieces like Will had. “Didn’t seem like he knew about…”
Will ducked his head. He hadn’t told Jonathan. In his defense, there had been a lot more important matters at hand, but mostly it was out of embarrassment. “Yeah.” He whispered.
Mike shoved a few more pieces of wood out of his way before he plopped himself down in front of Will. “I’m uh… I’m really sorry, about that day—“
“Mike, stop. It doesn’t matter, okay? It’s fine—”
“No, Will, it’s not! It’s not fine! I was a total jerk to you all summer and… And you were right. I got so caught up having a girlfriend I forgot how to be a normal friend.” Mike grimaces, “That came out weird, I don’t know what I meant by that. I just mean I’ve been a shitty friend this summer. I should’ve been around more.”
Will bowed his head, playing with a discarded stick.
“And…” Mike continued, catching Will's attention again. “I’m sorry for what I said. I just meant—”
A lump formed in Will’s throat.
Mike pauses, biting his lip. “We could’ve been better friends. I should have been better.” Mike ended up repeating his sentiment. He was avoiding something, the very same thing Will was hoping he’d avoid.
The summer humidity must be kicking in now, he could feel his face growing warmer. He lets a shy smile fall onto his face.
“Thanks Mike. I’m sorry too, I was being annoying and I know I should’ve been happy for you- you guys, I am! I just felt like I was being left behind, you know? I wasn’t ready to stop being a kid.”
Mike nodded shallowly. He refused to meet his eye, picking at a blade of grass, “I don’t think I am either.” He says quietly. “The mall… everything that happened… I’ve never been that scared in my life. Not since…” His voice catches, cracking on the last syllable. Will pretends he didn’t notice, Mike clears his throat. “Since they found your body in the quarry.”
“Oh.” Was all he could think to say. He thinks he saw a tear on Mike’s cheek.
“Obviously it wasn’t actually your body, but. It was still scary.” Will blinked, Mike’s face was dry.
“Yeah. Well, if it helps, I wasn’t exactly much better off in the real world.” Will tried to joke, Mike doesn’t laugh though.
“I didn’t even consider that— Nevermind what I said that was probably way harder than whatever my bullshit, nevermind,”
“Mike, it’s fine. I was kidding.” Will smiled, poking Mike's knee with the stick to try and get him to look up at him. He does, a smile twitches at his lips too.
“Right. Sorry.” He smiles, looking back at the ground.
“There was something, actually, that helped me get through it though. All the scary stuff, I mean.”
Mike looked up at him, eyebrows raised in anticipation. Will felt the words run through his mind but the more he looked at the expectant look on Mike’s face the harder it was to get them out.
“Nevermind. It’s dumb—” He shakes his head, trying to erase the words from existence.
“No, no it’s not dumb! Whatever it is, I mean, It worked right? You’re here.”
Will's heart skipped a beat. He took a deep breath. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
Will had only been half serious, but Mike looked like he was swearing a blood oath, “I’d never laugh at you.”
Will gulped, turning his head to look down at the remains of his sanctuary. He spots a shriveled up piece of a torn up picture. “I only made it though because… I knew that Mike the Brave would find me.”
“Really?” Mike’s voice sounded genuine but Will couldn’t get himself to look up and confirm. He nodded.
“You mean that the thought that I’d find you is what pushed you to fight in the Upside Down?”
It sounded so stupid. Will cringed at hearing the words come from someone else. He nodded, daring to look up at Mike, bracing himself for him to point and laugh, or be disgusted, or call him one of the names they’d learned from their bullies over their time together. Instead, all he found was a completely incredulous Mike, unable to believe what he’s hearing.
“Are you messing with me?” Mike says, raising eyebrows. It’s Will's turn to look confused.
“What? No! I’m serious. I kept thinking that, you know it’s fucking awful in there. Genuinely the most scared I’d ever been and maybe ever will be. I was alone, it was dark and cold and—” Will shudders involuntarily at remembering it. “I knew I needed to get out. I needed some way to get out and the best I could do was pretend it was just a game. Pretend it was one of your campaigns or like you were there around the next corner and at my side until one of our moms called us in for dinner. It sounds silly but it worked.”
Mike blinked at him a few times and the stood up. For a split second truly believed he was just about to leave without another word. Until he extended a hand out to Will. He looked at it for a second before accepting it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. He was just expecting a hand up, what he wasn’t expecting was for Mike to then pull him into a bone-crushing hug.
“Woah,” Will mutteredr, not meaning to.
“I’m really glad you’re here, Will.” Mike mumbled into his shoulder.
Will smiled, tentatively wrapping his arms around Mike and returning the hug. “Yeah. Yeah me too.”
They stand like that for a minute, Will’s not too sure how long. He just knows he’s not willing to be the first one to let go. So when Mike starts to loosen his grip, so does he.
Mike sniffles, Will ignores it, Mike appreciates that.
“So, uh. I was going to plan a new campaign for us before school starts up again. I really want everyone to play together, including El.”
“Yeah, that sounds fun.” Will nods.
The two of them start walking back to the Byers house, talking about all things D&D and summer plans. Will chooses not to think too hard about how often Mike's shoulder bumps into his, or how electric he feels when the backs of their have brush.
—
August, 1986
“Do you think Nancy and Jonathan will get married?”
The question came from out of the blue, startling Will out of the trance he’d fallen into while shading diligently in his sketchbook. He looks up at Mike, laying flat on his back on the Wheeler basement floor, the comic book he’d been reading laying limp on his chest as he stared up at the ceiling.
“Um, I don’t know. Maybe? I kind of doubt that’s in their mind with all of this going on.” Will responds, a laugh slipping through his words. Since the lockdown on Hawkins started it was hard to imagine a world where such trivial things could even be considered.
Mike didn’t return his laughter though. He turns his head to meet Will’s gaze. The coffee table blocks his eyes, he props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at Will on the couch. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Will’s eyebrows twitch together, the smile on his face faltering slightly. “Yeah, yeah of course.”
Mike chews at his lower lip. “The other day when we were giving Murray our supply lists for the next crawl I realized I forgot to ask him for something and when I went to go back to the truck before he left I… I overheard something I wasn’t supposed to hear.”
“Okay? What was it?”
Mike takes a deep breath.
“It was just Jonathan and Murray, they didn’t see me but I could still hear them. Jonathan was asking him if he could find him some mixtape? Or like a specific tape with a specific song in it? I don’t know I couldn’t quite make it out but he also asked… for a ring to go with it.”
Will’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh! Wow that’s—”
“Crazy! I know!”
“Yeah…” Will would’ve thought Jonathan would have talked to him before doing something like that, he usually asks for Will’s opinion on bigger things like that. It made him feel weird.
“Well?” Mike shuffled so he was not sat cross legged facing Will.
Will snapped out of his haze, looking into Mikes eyes. He had that look on his face that made Will’s heart beat a little too quickly—his mouth was parted open slightly and his eyes were wide like an expectant puppy. His hair was short in the back but his bangs curled too far down and almost into his eyes, Will wondered if Mike would cut it soon.
“Well what?”
“What do you think? About him proposing?” He clarified despite its redundancy.
Will shrugged, turning his attention to his sketchbook, shading mindlessly. “I don’t know. I guess that’s… nice?”
“Nice?” Mike‘s bewildered tone rang familiar in Will's ears, he suppressed a smile and looked up again.
“Yeah, I mean. It’s whatever, if that’s what they want—”
“Are you kidding? They’re only 19! They’re not even in college yet and the world is crumbling around us! You don’t think that’s a little bit insane?”
Will tossed the thought around in his head. “Yeah, no yeah that is kind of crazy…” The more he toyed with the idea the more real the thought became. His brother, getting married? How would he pay for the wedding, are they gonna buy a house? Jonathan can’t afford a house he can barely afford to buy lunch. “Oh my god, ew that’s fucking insane?” Will exclaims.
Mike throws his hands up excitedly. “That’s what I’m saying! What do you mean my sister would be getting married fresh out of high school?”
“To my brother?”
They both shudder.
“I mean, I know a lot of people do that kind of thing but, I don’t know I just never thought that something Nancy would want, you know?”
“I didn’t think that’s something Jonathan would want either.”
They sat quietly for a minute, contemplating their respective siblings and how much of them they really actually knew.
“What about you?” Mike said, breaking the silence.
Mike cocked his head, “What?”
“Would you ever want that? To get married so young?”
Will felt a pit form in his stomach.
“No.” He said simply. It wasn’t untrue, but the full truth was he’s never even considered it to be an option. When he was younger the prospect of falling in love with a girl was never something he’d dreamt of so it never made it into his long term plans. Now though, knowing what he knows, his hopes of finding any sort of relationship that quickly was something he knew was impossible.
He redirected the question, hoping Mike wouldn’t notice the shift in his tone. “What about you? Is that something you’d want? With El?” The question made him feel sick to ask aloud but he ignored it.
Mike didn’t answer immediately. His eyes wandered to the corner of the room and his shoulders folded in on themselves. After a minute of silence, he simply shook his head.
“No. I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to marry El, well, not that I do want to marry El—wait. No this is all coming out wrong, I don’t know what I mean, just never mind that—” He scrunched his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly as he rubbed his eyes. Will could see his ears turning red, he’s cute when he’s flustered. Of course he is. “I just, no, no. I don’t want to get married that young, to answer your question.”
Will laughed. “It was your question, actually.”
“Right, yeah.” He laughed, his cheeks still flushed.
“Can I ask why not?” Will tried to sound casual, pretending to erase something on the paper in front of him.
Mike paused. “I don’t know. I guess, we’ve been through so much, you know? I feel like our childhoods kind of got stolen from us—you especially—and I feel like, you know, it’s marriage then starting a family and buying a house… It's just, it’s so much adult shit and I don’t want to worry about that shit right now!”
“Well it wouldn’t be right now it’d be like, four years from now.” Will corrected.
“You know what I mean.”
Will nodded. “Yeah, I know. It would be weird. I feel like I want to really have the college experience or whatever. I mean, hopefully this shit will be long over by then.”
Mike nodded. “Me too, I want to have fun and not worry about interdimensional monsters and breaking into high security military bases.” He pauses, “Okay actually when you say it out loud it sounds really awesome maybe I take it back.”
Will rolls his eyes and laughs. He launches a nearby pillow at Mike, who barely bothers dodging and lets the pillow hit his hands and fall to his lap. “You’re so stupid, Wheeler.”
Mike laughs. “Not stupid enough to get married at nineteen!”
“Hey! That’s my brother!” Will smiles.
“And my sister! They’d be kind of stupid to get engaged right now is that so crazy to say!”
They laughed again. Mike flopped back onto the floor and let his attention fall back to his comic book. Will refocused on the sketch before him. The comfortable silence had just taken over the room again when Mike’s voice broke through it.
“Sorry if telling you about Jonathan proposing makes you feel weird. It was probably supposed to be a secret, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“It’s fine,” Will says, “honestly, I don’t think he’ll go through with it. I don’t think he really even believes in marriage. If it works out I’ll be happy for him, but I don’t think I’m gonna worry too much about it.”
He sees Mike nod from his spot on the floor. “Yeah. I don’t know if Nancy really does either.”
Will swallows, trying again for nonchalance as he says, “Do you?”
The silence is thick for a second. “I don’t know.” Mike says. “You?”
Another second. “I don’t know.”
The silence swims in the air, both returning to their activities while still acutely aware of the fact that neither of them can really focus on them anymore. Dozens of more questions float around them, neither brave enough to speak them into existence. Neither think they need to, Will thinks maybe they already know the answers.
—
December, 1987
Mike was acting strange.
He kept spacing out, losing focus in conversation and in school, he’s been chewing his bottom lip so much a scab has formed.
Will was worried about him.
Mike wasn’t good at asking for help, he wanted everyone to think he was brave and they could rely on him. Will did think he was brave, he just also thought that bravery came at the price of being a little dumb.
Will knew Mike was having a hard time. Both his parents were still in the hospital, he no longer had a room to himself as their family wasn’t all too concerned about reconstruction right now. He knew he missed El. They were now both staying in the Wheeler basement and despite how hard Will tried to mind his business and Mike trying to stay quiet, Will recognized the sniffling and shaky breaths. As much as he wished he could help, he wasn’t sure how to.
On the Tuesday before Christmas, everyone had come over for a movie night. No one was feeling particularly festive though, between the shift in Hawkin’s vibe as the military evacuated and the town opened up to the public again and everyone still recovering from losing El. Still, they tried to make the most of it. They put on a Christmas movie, made popcorn, even held a small gift exchange. It was nothing extravagant but it made them feel normal again for a little bit.
Slowly, Lucas, Dustin, and Max all left, leaving Mike and Will alone in the basement. They both picked up the leftover trash and started setting up for bed. Will couldn’t help but notice the faraway look in Mike’s eyes all night. Even now, he looked like he was moving on autopilot. It made Will’s heart ache.
“That was nice.” He said, trying to break the monotony of their nightly routine. It worked too, Mike jumping slightly at the sound of his voice.
“Hm? Oh, yeah.” He said, eyes falling back to the pile of blankets he was folding.
Will frowned, hoping for a better response. “It’s nice everyone could make it over. We haven’t been able to just hang out like normal for a while.” He prompted again, flashing a kind smile that he hoped was inviting.
Mike didn’t notice. He didn’t even glance over at him, settling for an absentminded nod. Will frowned again. He set down the stack of discarded paper plates he’s been gathering and stepped over to Mike.
“Hey,” He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, hating the way his friend flinched at the contact. “Is everything okay? Do you want to talk?”
His mouth rested slightly agape and his big doe eyes blinked at him. Will became too aware of his hand still on Mike's shoulder and dropped it to his side awkwardly. “Um, we don’t have to, I just thought…”
“No! Um,” Mike responded too suddenly, making Will flinch now. “Uh, no, I— ugh.” Mike sighed dramatically and plopped onto the couch behind him. He dragged his hands over his face, ears turning red.
Will slowly lowers himself down to sit next to him, mindful to leave about a foot of space between them.
Mike's hands slide off his face and into his lap. He glances over at Will and averts his eyes back to the stairs in front of them. “I’m sorry.” He says.
Will gives a small headshake. “What for?”
“I’ve been… Weird.” His knee bounces violently , shaking his hand with it.
“You? Weird? No…” Will teased, hoping to lighten the mood a little. He is pleased when a smirk blooms at the corner of his friend’s mouth.
“Shut up.” He chuckled, pushing harmlessly at Will’s shoulder. “You know what I mean. I’ve been…”
He struggles to find a word, Will helps him out. “Distant.”
Mike bites his lip, sparing another quick glance. “Yeah.”
“Yeah. I’ve noticed.”
Will watches Mike’s hand bounce up and down on his knee. He wants to grab it and put it at ease—he doesn’t. “Is it… Is it El?” Will’s voice cracks as he says her name. They don’t talk about her much, nobody does. It breaks his heart a little to say her name.
He can hear Mike gulp as he nods.
“I’m sorry. I know how much you loved her.” Will’s voice cracks again, his heart cracking with it.
“What? No, I’m sorry.” Mike says. Will looks at him, confused. “I was supposed to be able to save her but… I couldn’t. I couldn’t save her. Now she’s gone. I mean, I cared for her but she was your sister. And I can’t help but think that if I had just stopped being so… scared that maybe she could’ve been here tonight. But I’m still scared that if I mention it you’ll hate me for not doing enough to save her.”
“Mike,” Will says gently, angling his body to face Mike more. “There wasn’t anything you could do. She made her choice. I hate it, I hate that she chose that, but she’s so goddamn stubborn,” he can’t help the breathy laugh that comes out with his words, “Nothing would have stopped her. You can’t blame yourself, no one else is blaming you.”
Will watches Mike’s face. He’s refusing to look at him, his eyes burning into the floor as he worries away at his bottom lip. A tear slips off his face and onto the back of his hand where it bounces furiously atop his knee and Will can’t bear to see him like this anymore.
“Hey,” Will whispers, his hand on top of Mike’s before he can think to stop himself. The bouncing stops, Mike’s wet eyes meet his and his heart damn near completely splits in two. He tries to keep his voice steady, not quite succeeding. “It’s okay.”
Will feels his own hands trembling. The scar on Mike’s lip has split open and blood is seeping into the cracks. Will avoids looking at it. Mike's eyes fall back down to his lap, to Will’s hand on top of his. Mike follows his eyes, watching him flip his hand over gently so their palms are now pressed together and their fingers slot together awkwardly. Will’s breath catches in his chest, he tries to play it off as clearing his throat.
“Will?” Mike's voice comes out hoarse.
Will's response doesn’t sound much better. “Yeah?”
“Your hand is weird.”
Will laughs. He doesn’t mean to, but he does. “Shut up! Your hand is weird.” He knocks their shoulders together, the space left between them is gone. Their thighs are pressed together and their arms settle against each other as well. They look up at each other at the same fume. Mike’s hair falls just across his eyebrows, soft and wavy, his brown eyes glossed over, his pupils blown wide. A blush spans across his cheeks all the way to his ears. He licks his smiling, cracked lips quickly, subconsciously. Will feels himself do the same, watching Mike’s eyes flicker down to watch, caught for a moment too long before meeting his eyes again.
For a moment, Will forgets where he is. All he can feel is Mike’s hand in his, his body smushing against his own despite the excessive space the couch has to offer, and all he can see is Mike’s face a mere few inches away. He’s so wrapped up in the moment, he doesn’t even register the potential for disaster before he’s leaning in and kissing Mike.
It was a chaste kiss, hardly a peck of the lips. It felt juvenile, like they were middle schoolers. Will felt his heart do a flip in his chest as he fell back, only an inch or two away from Mike’s face. The realization of what he’d done didn’t slam into him all at once, rather bit by bit. He’d met Mike’s shocked eyes, that’s when it all crashed down on him.
“Oh my god,” he whispered. He backed away, unfurling his hand from Mike's and covering his mouth with it. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry—” he murmured, scrambling to create space between them again.
“Will—” Mike was saying his name but Will was so lost in his head he couldn’t register it. How could he be so reckless, so stupid, so—
Mike’s hands fisted themselves into Will’s shirt and pulled him in again, their lips crashing together.
Will’s head was spinning, every thought he’d ever had knocked right back out as the feeling of Mike’s lips against his grounded him back into reality. It was messy and weird like neither of them really knew what they were doing. Mike pulled away this time, a distinct slick kissing sound echoing in Will’s ears as they stared at each other.
No more than a few seconds passed before they were pulling each other in once more, this time they were both certain of themselves.
Will’s hands cupped Mike’s jaw, pulling him as close as he could. Mike’s lips tasted like peppermint hot chocolate and a little bit like iron from the anxiety induced incision that’d been driving Will crazy. One of Mike’s hands started balled in Will’s shirt while the other one flattened out and felt his way up his chest, then his neck, along his jaw and then cupping the back of Will’s head as he reciprocated the desire that was inflating Will’s lungs.
Muffled sounds of want and pleasure exchanged between them as the kiss deepened. Their lips slotting against each other, licking and sucking, like this was what they’d been meant to be doing their whole lives. Will’s brain was a live wire, a buzz of white noise and Mike’s heavy breaths and quiet moans reverberating through his skull.
God, he needed more.
He broke the kiss, only for a second to swing his leg over Mike’s so that he was straddling his hips. Mike slid backwards so he was pressed firmly against the back of the couch. The hand in Will’s shirt sliding down and finding a new home on his waist. Will pulled him up by the jaw, their lips moving together again, everything was natural in the world. One of his hands grazed his cheekbones as he moved it to the back of Mike’s scalp, his hair sliding in between his fingers and so goddamn soft.
Mike hummed against his mouth, never fully breaking contact as he slid his lips over to his chin, then his jaw, trailing sloppy wet kisses all the way up to where it meets his neck. Will gasps and lets his head fall back, urging Mike to continue. His mouth works down the side of his neck until he hits a spot that elicits a noise from Will he can’t bother to be embarrassed about because that would mean Mike would stop what he’s doing and he cannot have that. Will’s fingers instinctively curl in Mike’s hair, tugging slightly as he pulls Mike closer. This causes an obscene pop sound between them as Mike’s lips detach from Will’s neck and a whine escapes his throat. The sound is music to Will’s ears, he drops his head down to meet Mike’s eyes again.
He’s never sent anything like this. The way his lips were bright and swollen and glossy made his stomach flip. He didn’t think Mike’s pupils could grow any bigger but he’s never been happier to have been proven wrong; big brown eyes staring at Will like he was the center of the world. His face is red and Will cannot believe he’s the cause of all of it. He kisses his lips again.
This time they move slower, like they have all the time in the world. Switching easily between top and bottom lip kisses, a smile fights its way across Will’s face. He felt high, or drunk, or some secret third thing that only Mike was capable of intoxicating Will with.
He mumbled something that was maybe supposed to be words into Mike’s lips, he wasn’t fully sure.
“What?” Mike managed between kisses.
“I love you.” Will said, breathless, not so much as opening his eyes or faltering from their rhythm.
Mike, though, froze beneath him, his hands losing their grip on Will’s hips and neck. “What?” He repeated, though this time he wasn’t looking for clarification.
The fog in Will’s brain dissipated all too fast as he opened his eyes, the awestruck look now gone from Mike’s face and replaced with something Will couldn’t read. He could feel every inch of his body again and he became far too aware of his limbs and surroundings. His hands fell away from Mike's face, now feeling too cold in the exposed air.
“Oh, no, no—” Will swung his leg off of Mike’s hips, finding his spot beside him again, a hand covering his mouth. “Oh no,” he continued to mutter to himself, standing up now and walking over to the stairs.
“Will, wait,” he heard Mike behind him, he couldn’t stop himself though. He had one foot on the steps when he felt a hand around his wrist, so gentle Will thought he might throw up.
He turned around, Mike’s jaw tight and his eyes pleading. “Will, please.” He whispered.
Will choked, unable to breathe or think. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say. He turned around and ran up the stairs, Mike’s hand sliding off his wrist with ease.
—
November, 1991
Will hated being home for the holidays. He spent all this time curating his apartment in New York, curating his friend group, cultivating his fresh start, only to start and end his year in the same shitty town that’s been nothing but cruel to him. Maybe eventually he’ll stop coming back.
Not this year though.
His mom and Hopper bought a house. Nothing new, nothing all that fancy, but something that was theirs. Will had to admit, it was a nice place. Despite his lack of attachment to it, it felt homey. The decor resembled that of his childhood home in a way that made him so nostalgic he was almost sick. The main difference was this house had never been used as a portal to another dimension, or a scaled map of the whole town, or a booby trap for monsters. So in that sense, he appreciated its freshness.
The only reason he bothers coming home is because Jonathan still does. It’s one of the few times he actually gets some time with his brother despite living in the same city. Turns out, New York is busy, just being in the same city doesn’t promise quality time.
The party usually comes back home too, but Will doesn’t spend much time with them. He loves seeing everyone—Max, Lucas, Dustin—he just can’t be around Mike for too long.
They haven’t talked much since the summer after graduation. Well, that’s not true actually. They hadn’t talked much since before that—since Christmas ‘87.
Will knows it’s his fault. He made things weird, he put in too much too fast, he waited his whole life for one thing and then went and ruined it. He couldn’t forgive himself for that, instead he just tried to move on. Luckily for him, Mike decided to do the same.
Which is good! After an awkward week of tiptoeing around each other and avoiding eye contact (but still sneaking glances at each other whenever possible), they shifted back into place—how they used to be. They kept a foot’s distance between them at all times, they kept one on one conversations short and sweet, got along well in the group, and they never brought it up again. Which is good. That’s exactly what Will wanted.
Unless, of course, he’s being honest with himself. If he’s being truthful, deep down he always wished Mike had chased him down; that he’d confronted him at any point before they’d gone their separate ways to college. He, in all honesty, wished he had any sort of closure of what happened that night. Instead it became a blur and he had forgotten about it.
Mostly forgotten about it.
Except on late nights where he was lonely and homesick and it was a little too cold in his shitty New York apartment with a heating unit that barely works. He’s sent back to the cold dark familiarity of his childhood, shivering with fear and cold. When he gets like this, he thinks of Mike. He remembers Halloween, Mike pulling him out of his vision, getting him home safe. Sitting in Mike’s basement while they waited for Jonathan to pick him up.
Crazy together they’d promised.
He remembered the basement. The stale smell of cinnamon and oak burned into his brain. The pattern in the cushion you can only see when you lay down on it. The way the color looked behind Mike’s head as he looked at Will with hunger in his eyes and his lips plump.
That warmed Will back up.
Nowadays though, they don’t talk much. They never meet up alone, only in groups, and even then they don’t really chat much. They’ll exchange polite hellos, brief updates that contain mostly vapid information and small talk appropriate lies. Will tried to avoid seeing him all together, he couldn’t handle it.
Currently, he’s returning to his mom’s house, half past 11pm, from getting drinks with Max and Lucas. They’d had a nice night, they offered for Will to join them to meet up with Dustin and Mike. He politely declined, saying he had plans early in the morning with his mom. It wasn’t true, but it was easier than saying he can’t see Mike in a dimly lit bar after a certain amount of drinks because he can’t trust his subconscious to behave.
So he wandered up to his room that was actually just one of the two guest rooms but technically holds all of Will’s childhood belongings—or what they managed to keep of them—meaning it was his room. He plopped himself onto the unfamiliar bed, tossing and turning in his familiar sheets, waiting for sleep to take over him.
He wakes up to an uncomfortable light shining into his eyes. The curtains hadn’t been closed completely which let the early morning sun shine directly to Will’s head on the pillow. So that’s nice.
He flipped over with a displeased grunt, hoping sleep would settle over him again. Unfortunately for him, his brain was awake now and running through his to-do list for the day. He blinked his eyes open, seeing the clock and sighing with annoyance. It was 6:30 in the goddamn morning. He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He lets out a tired huff, taking in his surroundings. His eyes landed on his phone sitting on the bedside table. The tiny screen glowed green, he squinted at it. He grabbed the small box and looked at the words flashing before him.
1:18 A.M.
1 MISSED CALL
He hit play, not thinking. His heart dropped when he recognized Mike’s voice through the speakers. His words slurred together like one big string of letters. He was drunk.
“William Byers! I know we haven’t talked in a while, like., like reaaally talked but, I miss you. I miss you soooo much. And I’ve been dying to tell you but they kept saying I shouldn’t but I don’t care anymore because I need you to know”
There’s a pause. A horrible, horrible pause, before Mike whispers:
“ I’m getting married!”
Will is gonna throw up. He feels sick. Oh god—
“Next month. In a month I’mgonna be married? It’s like a whole thing and it’s like this girl I met at school and she’s like super cool and artsy and Will you’d fucking love her and we just said like fuck it letsfuckingget married! But honestly, Will, I don’t even care because you’re not gonna be there but I want you to be there!”
Another pause. He can hear Mike swallowing his saliva through the phone.
“Please Will, please come to the wed-sing— wedding… Please come to the wedding, Will. I need you there. Please.”
The phone beeps. The message ends. Will feels hollow. The phone becomes heavy in his hand, falling limp to his side. Tears prick at his eyes and he can’t keep them from falling.
His best friend was getting married. In a month. He never received an invitation—until now. A drunken, late night invitation that he doesn’t even know if it’s genuine. He didn’t even say ‘wedding’ right.
Every emotion washes over him, he feels like he’s drowning. Every thanksgiving wishbone, every dandelion fuzz, every eyelash and sign and signal; The past two years he’d prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that Mike would one day call him and confess to feelings Will wanted to believe existed so badly. All of it—it was all bullshit.
He was a fool to ever believe it wasn’t.
He sits there a while in his dumb fake bedroom, teams rolling down his face as his breaths come in ragged uneven heaves. He can’t stand it, his heart feels completely split in two. The past 15 years of his life— Mike’s face was all he remembered. On the playground on the first day of kindergarten, in the Wheeler backyard, the Byers front yard, the streets on their bikes, Castle Byers, the hospital beds, the mall, the tunnels, the Mac-Z, the radio tower, Mike’s basement. The look in his eyes, a look he’s never received from Dustin or Lucas or any of his friends in New York—hell, a look he’s never received from any of the guys that have flirted with him on campus or in bars.
The look he’s only ever seen from his Best Friend.
He sniffles, looking down to the phone in hand. He contemplates calling him back. He considers going to his house and talking to him there. He considers accepting the invitation. Saying “I’d love to! I’ll be there!” and smiling like he means it.
And then he hears it again.
Please.
Will, please.
In the voicemail, he’d said it the same way he’d said it in the basement only 4 years ago. Begging him to stay, begging him to come to his wedding. It was the same voice. The same eyes that had looked at him like the center of the universe at eight years old and again at 16, that had pulled him to reality when he was possessed and afraid at 12 years old. The boy who’d fought demons to save his life, fought the military, traveled across the country with. The one who always stood up for him, never hurt him, didn’t abandon him after learning the truth.
The boy who kissed him back.
He looks up, a sob catching in his throat as he sees it plastered on the wall with a plethora of his other drawings. Will the Wise and Mike the Brave, surrounded by the swirl of colors, that look immortalized in an objectively shitty drawing from a little Will who had no idea what that look meant other than that he was safe. That Mike never yelled at him for not understanding the rules, he’d never laugh at him for telling the truth, he’d always listen to his opinions and always care, he’d hold him gently and also like he was afraid to ever let him go. Little Will had no idea how sacred they’d become.
That was just it, wasn’t it? It was too precious. He couldn’t call him back, he couldn’t look him in the eyes. He could never see him again. If he saw him again, his lasting memory would forever be the 20 year old kid getting married right out of high school, not the boy he loved—and who loved him back.
Will couldn’t have that.
He stared at the green lit up screen, the words REPLAY MESSAGE taunting him. He didn’t think twice before he deleted the message and put the phone down. He laid in the guest bed of his moms house, staring at the blue ceiling doused in golden light, letting Mike Wheeler sit in the back of his mind where he’ll forever stay nice.